


Because We Have Nothing Better To Do

by Dryad



Category: The X-Files
Genre: FTF, Fluffity fluff fluff with a hint of angst, Other, The End, pg13, post-Pine Bluff Variant
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-26
Updated: 2013-10-26
Packaged: 2017-12-30 12:18:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,565
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1018515
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dryad/pseuds/Dryad
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Look, it's not like you lot are taking up a whole bunch of our time these days.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Because We Have Nothing Better To Do

**Author's Note:**

> Originally written in 2003. Emuse challenge fic, ingredients at end.

~*~  
 **  
'The Muses, sisters nine**  
 _(but sometimes less)_  
 **were always reknowned for  
their kindliness**  
 _(yet reviled, too, for  
(the withholding of their favors)_  
 **These Goddesses Memory, Song,  
and Dance**  
 _(which doesn't explain Britney  
(Spears or N'Sync, but times  
(change. Besides, who knows,  
(maybe in his day people  
(thought Homer sucked)_  
 **History**  
 _(always written by the victors)_  
 **Poetry, Comedy, Tragedy**  
 _(you're thinking of the Bee Gees  
(now, aren't you?)_  
 **Music and Astronomy, these Graces**  
 _(wah-wah, wah-wah-wah-wah)_  
 **blessed the species**  
 _(sucking up won't work)_  
 **and cursing**  
 _(oh for the good gods sakes, can  
(we just get on with the story?)_

 

 

_I suppose the first thing you want to know is which one I am._

_Please._

_Like it matters._

_Okay, yes, it does matter, but for the purposes of this tale, let's  
pretend it doesn't, alright?_

_Erato says:_

**Of lax limbs he lies  
dark his brow  
night his raiment  
the spark on wax  
making umbrous his  
profile.**

**Sleepy eyed he lies  
vapors from golden  
flesh lift  
countenance ivory  
his eyes moss agate**

**Godlike he lies -**

_Quite frankly, that's more than I can take._

Mulder slouched, staring at the tv but not, she thought, actually  
paying attention. He'd started out watching Days of Our Lives which  
was like a sick kind of joke, so she'd switched over to the Cartoon  
Network. The Tick was her guilty pleasure, an irreverent cartoon that  
hit her in just the right place. Maybe it was because some days, she  
felt like throwing her shoe at the bad guys, just like American Maid. 

Or maybe it was because that humungous fungus they had been trapped  
in reminded her of El Seed. In any case, it wasn't breaking Mulder  
out of his funk, not that she blamed him.

He was brushing the tip of his broken finger over his clavicle,  
allowing it to rest on his pulse whenever he forgot she was sitting at  
the far end of the couch.

She didn't know what he'd gone through. She couldn't even begin to  
guess. A slow lingering death from cancer was one thing, at least she  
had had the chance to say goodbye, to make her peace with fate. She  
understood that facing death forced one to re-evaluate one's place in  
the universe, the yearning, the regret, the hope, the terrible,  
terrible fear. The longing for it to be over. She had come back to a  
world filled with celebration, and while she too had celebrated,  
lurking in the deepest part of her soul was the desperate plea for  
space to catch up, to realize that she wasn't going to fade in her  
sleep, to smell rain on the wind without knowing it would be for the  
last time.

Leaving him on the couch, she went and started a hot bath, adding a  
dollop of Coudray's Ambre et Vanille perfumed cream. She lit candles  
and laid out her fluffiest towels. That should do it. Thank goodness  
her tub was extra long.

Back in the living room, she crouched and gently put one hand on his  
knee. "Mulder."

He blinked once and looked down at her.

"Come on," she said, taking his good hand and pulling him to his feet.  
She brought him to the bathroom and left him there, closing the door  
on his lost, yet thankful, expression. The lack of comment on the  
bubble bath worried her more than she wanted to admit. She wasn't  
Mulder's mother, but that didn't mean he didn't deserve to be mothered  
on the occasion.

While he bathed, she made coffee, then changed her mind and opened a  
bottle of red wine. When she felt she was ready, to grabbed the  
bottle and another glass and rapped softly on the door. "You decent?"

"Define decent."

She quirked her lips and entered the room. He was up to his armpits  
in bubbles, his gaze unfathomable.

"Thought you might like some wine," she said, offering him an empty glass.

"Thanks," he said.

She poured for him and then herself, put down the toilet seat cover  
and perched. "How's the finger?"

"Painful."

They sat in a silence broken only by the prickling of tiny bubbles  
bursting. Finally, she said, "I'm glad you're okay."

"Me too."

She frowned, gazing at the chipped iron toes of her clawfoot tub. "I'm just,  
I was scared."

"Hey. _Hey_ ," water sloshed as he sat up sharply. He scooted up as  
best he could and reached towards her. "I'm here. You're here. That's  
the only thing that matters."

"Yeah," she said, clasping his hot wet hand. "Yeah, we are, aren't we."

 

_Ahem. Excuse me. I think I'll leave the rest of that scene to Erato,  
since she'll do it far more justice than I._

The case had taken place in North Carolina, which was why they were  
driving back to DC. Mulder had worked his profiling magic in Raleigh,  
and on a whim, taken Scully to meet his first cousins, Henrik and  
Johanna. He hadn't seen them in years, not since his father's death.

"So, Fox," Johanna said, pouring coffee into fine, bone-china cups.  
"When are you going to come down for a proper visit?"

He shrugged. "I don't know, Jo. We're pretty busy."

"God, will you stop calling me that?" Johanna gave Scully a look of  
fond exasperation while handing her a full cup and saucer. "I've asked  
him to pronounce my name correctly since I was three years old, and  
does he do it? No."

"That's because yelling 'Yo!' across the park would have gotten  
everyone's attention but yours," Mulder replied with a smile.

"I can't help it if my mother preferred the European pronunciation.  
Cream?"

"Please," Scully answered, looking around the conservatory and once  
again wondering just how moneyed the Mulder family actually was. It  
wasn't something that occurred to her often, but how many people could  
afford to fund a trip to Antarctica without years of planning, even  
with Frohike's 'friend of a friend of a friend who happens to be a  
Military transport pilot and owes me a favor' help. Fuel cost money.  
So did fines.

All of which seemed a lifetime away in this balmy, glass enclosed  
room. Ferns and palms shaded the scrolled iron table and chairs where  
they sat, facing a wealth of lawn and shrubbery. Johanna was the  
picture of Southern womanhood with her understated gold bracelets and  
straight blonde hair, dressed in an ankle-length floral dress, leather  
flats on her feet. Chanel No. 5 wafted across the table, instantly  
bringing Scully back to her childhood, watching her mother dress for  
dinner with the Captain, touching a glass stopper to the inside of  
her wrists, the backs of her knees. Her mother had been so glamorous  
to her six-year old eyes.

"Dana, I don't suppose you could persuade him to visit more often,  
could you?" Johanna asked.

Mulder's smile widened as he glanced affectionately at Scully. "Only if  
she glued me to her side and drove down herself."

"Don't tempt me," She huffed.

"Oh! That reminds me, I found something of yours the other day. Since  
Christian's at summer camp I thought I'd take the opportunity to  
thoroughly clean his room before he turns into a teenaged terror and  
locks me out of it," Johanna placed her cup on the table and shrugged.  
"Maybe it's different with boys. I swear the day Clara turned twelve  
she became this tornado of emotions," she shook her head and stood up.  
"Makes me dread the day Jacob and Violet get that old. If you'll  
excuse me for a moment "

As Johanna walked away, Scully leaned towards Mulder ever so slightly  
and whispered, "Four kids, one a teenager? She doesn't look much  
older than me."

"I know," Mulder whispered back. "Mom's side of the family definitely  
got the 'pretty' genes. You should see Henrik. He made all the  
girls' hearts go pitter-patter when we were kids."

Scully rolled her eyes at his unspoken suggestion that hers would as  
well. Five years of working with him had practically turned her immune  
to the charms of attractive men. Mostly.

"Hey, if we have to testify, do you want to visit here again?"

"I'd love to," she said. She was pondering the wisdom of accepting an  
invitation from Mulder without a case of some sort being involved when  
Johanna swept back into the conservatory, one hand behind her back.

"Look what I've got," she crowed, whipping out a pair of drumsticks.  
"Ta-da!"

"Oh my god," Mulder groaned. He took the drumsticks and tapped out a  
quick rhythm against his chair's armrest. "I haven't seen these  
since...I don't know when."

Johanna grinned. "I do believe Dad removed them after an hour's  
serenade during New Year's dinner when we were little, before Samantha  
was born. Marion must have found them when she was cleaning the attic  
and given them to Christian. You're welcome to take them back to DC  
with you."

"You just say that so Chris won't drive you crazy," Mulder said.

"More crazy," Johanna emphasized, before taking a sip of her coffee.  
"I remember you rattling around, hitting everything that could make a  
noise," she nodded at Scully. "He even convinced our cook to fill  
every pot and glass in the kitchen with different levels of water for  
his 'orchestra'."

Mulder buried his face in his hands, muffling his words. "If this is  
some form of revenge to humiliate me, rest assured it's working."

Scully shook with silent laughter. She could clearly picture the  
scene; a small boy with a mop of dark hair, carefully explaining the  
musical piece he was about to perform. Then making everyone listen,  
and being very proud of himself afterwards. "I'll bet he was a terror."

Mulder glared at her. "Oh please, not you too."

Scully eyed him, then said to Johanna, "I don't suppose you have any  
photo al-"

"Absolutely not!" Mulder said. "You go there, Scully, and I'm calling  
your mom."

"Oo, is that a threat, Agent Mulder?" she asked, giving him the  
stare-down.

He opened his mouth several times, but ultimately slumped back in his  
chair instead. "No, damnit."

"My god, you've got him tamed," said a wide-eyed Johanna. She reached  
over the table to shake Scully's hand. "Never thought I'd see the day."

Mulder snorted, and Scully was inclined to agree. The day Mulder was  
tamed was the day Skinner wore a weave.

"More coffee?" Johanna offered.

Scully accepted, as did Mulder, and chatted about nothing while the  
sun moved overhead and the shadows began to lengthen. She found  
herself more than happy to be in this pleasant room, learning more  
about her partner's good times. Sometimes it seemed that both of  
their lives revolved around Samantha and her part in the Conspiracy.  
Christ, when had she started thinking in capital letters?

Johanna wiped her lips free of cookie crumbs and said, "Mm, I saw  
Diana the other day."

"Yeah," Mulder waved one hand in agreement. "She, uh, she's back in DC."

Scully put down her cup and fought the urge to grit her teeth.

"What was she doing here?"

"Oh, she stopped by to see Henrik, who will, I should add, be very  
sorry he missed you."

Mulder straightened his tie. "Why did she want to see him?"

"I don't know, Fox. We didn't talk all that long. Besides," Johanna  
pursed her lips. "I'd be happier if they didn't have much to do with  
one another."

Scully could feel Mulder's irritation and didn't even attempt to hold  
herself back. She was his partner, it was her job to watch his back  
when he wasn't willing to do so for himself. "Why not?"

Johanna glanced at Mulder and smiled apologetically. "I'm sorry. I  
shouldn't be airing our dirty laundry in public."

Oh for - . Scully clasped her hands together instead of grabbing  
Mulder's cousin by the neck and ringing the truth out of her. She  
knew more about this particular branch of the Mulder family tree than  
anyone else, and she didn't give a shit what the hell the rest of the  
family thought where she was concerned. She and Mulder were family,  
bonded by the blood they had both spilled, regardless of how their  
respective 'real' families felt.

"I don't suppose I could convince you to stay overnight, could I?"  
asked Johanna, looking hopefully from Scully to Mulder and back again.

While Scully had been in rather a hurry to get home, the chance to dig  
up information about Diana was too good to resist. Mulder beat her to  
the punch before she had an opportunity to do more than open her mouth.

"Unfortunately, no. We've...got a lot of paperwork to go through."

Johanna nodded. "Diana told me what happened. She said she really  
enjoyed working with you again on your last case."

"Mm."

"Have you met Diana, Dana? Goodness, that could get confusing."

"Yes," Scully said, struck anew by Johanna's observation. She had  
noticed it immediately, of course, and while on the one hand she was  
jealous that Agent Fowley and Mulder used one another's first names,  
she was also pleased that she and Mulder used only their last names.

It was their thing.

And Agent Fowley could stick that little fact right up her ass.

The mere mention of the woman brought a cloud unto the afternoon, and  
Scully found herself on the receiving end of a quick hug from Johanna  
a few minutes later as they stood in the foyer, Mulder striding to the  
car without so much as a backwards glance.

"Dana, it was so good to meet you," Johanna said, holding Scully still  
with the lightest of touches on her shoulder. Her gaze flicked  
towards her cousin. "Fox doesn't talk to us all that often, so all the  
information we have is second and third hand."

"Well," Scully licked her lips. "He can be very uncommunicative when  
he wants to be."

"Our Aunt Klara used to say that still waters ran deep, and based on  
that I'd say Fox is the Mariana Trench."

Scully couldn't resist smiling. "More like water on Mars."

"Anyway, if you're ever in the area, I hope you'll stop by. With or  
without Fox."

"Thank you."

 

_Let's skip the physical details of the ensuing hours and move straight  
on to the introspection, shall we?_

 

Suffice to say, the journey to DC was relatively short as these things  
go, but made longer by Mulder's adamant refusal to discuss anything  
relating to Agent Fowley, including why she might know where his  
cousins lived, and what she might want to do with them. Scully, used  
to his ways after years of travel, kept her thoughts to herself after  
a singular overture into the matter, pondering the force of her  
curiosity and desire to protect her partner versus her jealousy and  
fear. More to the point, she realized she would never feel anything  
but guilt and defensive anger for investigating Agent Fowley in the  
first place. Yet, how could she feel otherwise, when Mulder wouldn't  
even tell her of their history? Which, apparently, not only involved  
himself, but his very family?

 

"Shit, we need another player."

Scully eyed Jim. "You can't just play with Cole and Bill?"

He stared at her. "We'd be uneven! They'll cream me!"

She sighed and shook her head. "Look, I might be able to get someone  
if you're really desperate."

"Dana, I'm begging, here. Anything you want that I have in my power  
to give is yours. Second born child? Beat-up used car? Smelly dog?"

"I'm sure I'll think of something," She waved one hand at him. "Go on,  
I'll make the call."

"Rock on!" He punched one fist in the air and skipped back out the  
patio doors.

She made the call on the land line, figuring that if Bill didn't see  
her with her cell phone, he wouldn't go apeshit. She paced back and  
forth as the phone rang, the answering machine picking up. "Mulder,  
it's me. I, uh, have a request, if you've got the time. I'm at my  
mother's house, and, um," God, this was just asking for trouble.  
"She's having some neighbors over, and they need another player. So,  
um, if you've got the time, uh, give me a call back."

"Who ya callin', sis?"

Scully jumped guiltily and put the phone back in its cradle. "Oh, um,  
just leaving a message."

Bill frowned and grinned at the same time. "You been holding out on me?"

"Hmm?" Scully folded her arms before deciding that made her look  
defensive, so she leaned against the counter instead. Arms folded. "What  
do you mean?"

"Well," he poked her shoulder to move her away from the fridge. He  
opened the door and peered in. "You actually show up to a family  
function, dressed in what looks like Missy's old clothes, and every  
now and again you crack a smile."

She scowled. So what if her ankle-length dress was pale indigo,  
covered with a print of cabbage roses and ivy?

"I haven't seen you like this since you met Ethan, so I figured there  
had to be a man in the picture," Bill stood up again with a bottle of  
club soda. Glass jars of condiments rattled when he shut the door. He  
motioned toward the phone. "That him?"

"No, because I'm not dating anyone."

"And you never will if you continue being such a sourpuss."

He said it with a grin that didn't quite reach his eyes, and she  
wondered why their relationship had always been like this, even when  
they were little. Sometimes she thought he didn't like her very much.

But then, sometimes she didn't like him very much, either.

Whatever.

There wasn't much left to do, and she couldn't hide in the house  
forever. Nonetheless, she took her time making the fruit salad, and  
only relinquished her chosen solitude when Tara came in and literally  
dragged her back outside.

"Dana, come on, you're missing all the manliness expressing itself in  
the back yard," Tara said.

"Horrors," Scully replied, gently pulling her hand out of Tara's grasp.

The new neighbors were nice enough people, and if the "Jim says" and  
"I went shopping with Andrea, Connie, and Sidney"'s were anything to  
go by, her mother was enjoying herself immensely.

Which was good. Scully knew she was as selfish as any other child  
where their parents were concerned, but she did worry that her mother  
spent more time by herself than was healthy. No pot calling the  
kettle black there, then.

The Paulasto's, Andrea and Cole, had transformed the half of their  
backyard that abutted her mother's garden into a games area. There  
was a hoopstand set at the far end, and un-netted, telescoping  
tennis/badminton poles on either side of the 'court'. Watching the  
increasingly rough play from her seat on the patio, Scully sincerely  
hoped no one would impale themselves.

"Dana, Maggie tells me you work for the FBI."

Scully nodded politely. She wasn't sure whether or not she approved  
of Frank Hutton, but judging by the constant sprinkling of his name  
throughout her mother's latest conversations, it didn't appear that  
she was going to have the choice. "For five years, now."

"Good for you," Frank said, shifting in his chair. Sunlight glinted  
off the gold rims of his photochromic glasses. "We need more young  
people with a sense of duty. Kennedy said it best, ask not what your  
country can do for you - "

" - but for what you can do for your country," Bill finished  
triumphantly, offering Frank another longneck along with shared  
patriotism. He pulled his collar away from his neck. "Now, the way I  
look at it, the FBI is just a glorified police force, right, sis?"

She wasn't fooled by his wink and smile. "Some people might think so."

Frank shook his head. "Don't be fooled by appearances, Bill. I worked  
for the Government for forty-seven years. Some of the best of the  
best worked in the FBI."

"Which department did you work in, if you don't mind me asking?"  
queried Scully.

"Intelligence," he said, waving one hand in the air. "Domestic and  
overseas. You'd think there wouldn't be as much call for it now as  
there was during the Cold War, but you'd be dead wrong. If anything,  
we need need it more than ever."

Idly tracing the condensation on her glass of lemonade, she nodded. If  
only he knew the half of it.

"But the FBI doesn't handle Intelligence, that's for the NSA and CIA,"  
Bill said. Then he looked sharply at her, eyes narrowed.

Scully was spared from having to respond when a glass of orange juice  
jumped off the table and threw itself onto Heather's lap. Everything  
else on the table jarred and clinked and threatened to fall over, and  
it was only when Jim pounded up and grabbed the basketball that had  
rolled underneath her mother's chair that she realized what had  
happened. She took a deep breath and forced herself to relax.

"Oh, hon, I'm really sorry about that," Jim panted, tucking the ball  
underneath one arm and trying to dab juice off of her chest with his  
tee-shirt.

She batted his hand away good-naturedly and stood up. "No worries, I  
was getting tired of this color anyway."

"Sorry," Jim repeated, walking towards Cole, who was still standing  
beneath the hoop.

"No, Mom, sit down, I'll get a sponge," Scully said, using the  
opportunity to get away from Bill, even if it was only momentarily.  
When she returned from the kitchen having taken the time to check  
both her answering machine and voice mail the discussion had moved  
onto the latest Hollywood blockbuster and whether or not L.A.  
Confidential was better than The Usual Suspects.

She drifted back into the kitchen and rinsed the sponge out, then  
checked her messages again. She couldn't decide if she was annoyed or  
relieved that he hadn't returned her call. Equal parts of both, really.

Going back outside didn't appeal, so she ended up wandering around  
upstairs, looking at all everything her mother had on display. Lots  
of pictures of Bill, Missy, Charles and herself. Two photos of her  
mother and Ahab on their wedding day, stiff but smiling, as if they  
were at senior prom instead of a church. Another of them dancing at  
the reception, Ahab dipping his new wife backwards over his knee,  
grinning while she held onto her hat, blurred guests frozen in  
mid-laugh in the background. Antique frames held grandparents,  
great-grandparents, aunts, uncles, a single nephew.

Scully moved on. She peeked through her mother's jewelry box, trying  
on a diamond and opal engagement ring. It was still too big, although  
it looked pretty on her hand. There were suitcases in the room she  
and Missy had briefly shared, a red dress on Charles' single bed,  
and of course Bill, Tara, and Matthew had his old room, so she didn't  
snoop. The bathroom held nothing new of interest, although there was  
an extra toothbrush in the holder, and a leather shaving kit on the  
top of the dresser.

Shoving that little fact to the back of her mind, Scully stood in the  
hallway and wondered if there was any possible way she could just go  
home and brood. Laughter echoed up the stairs and she took a few  
steps towards the end of the hall. God, what was it about families  
and parties that made her want to go postal? Mulder was convinced, as  
was everyone else, that was she needed to do was recuperate, to be  
around people she trusted. To have fun.

Opening the attic door, she smirked. No irony there.

The attic was well organized, all boxes marked in black Sharpie, all  
trunks and dry cleaning bags taped or pinned with paper lables. Sadly,  
her life was condensed into a single, medium-sized box. There were a  
few books that she had prized, dog-eared and creased from use, a  
certificate from the YMCA showing that she had learned how to swim,  
knick-knacks and oddities that she could no longer remember the  
stories behind, a pair of baby booties and her christening gown,  
carefully wrapped in tissue paper. Beneath it all were three slightly  
shiny, slightly sticky, slim yellow volumes.

"God," she breathed, shaking her head as she flipped through the pages  
of the top one, stopping randomly at various entries.

 

10/3/77

BG asked me if I had my period yet. Said no.  
M said she was stupid, and to stay awy from  
her and her friends. M doesn't know anything.  
Went behind bleachers with JK. RD, PF, and  
WS were there too.

11/23/77

Skipped.

 

Scully sucked in a breath and mourned for the girl she had been. Well,  
you couldn't change the past, you just had to move on with the future.

"Dana? Honey? Are you up there?"

"Yeah, Mom?" she called, half-turning towards the staircase.

"Fox is here. He said you called him?"

"Okay, I'll be down in a minute."

She made a quick stop in the bathroom to check the state of her dress  
and hair, washed her hands free of dust and grime.

Mulder had already joined in the game, and from the cheering of  
Heather, Sidney, and Andrea, Scully gathered he'd already done some  
improving of Jim's score. She sat down and poured herself another  
lemonade, nibbled on some cheese and crackers.

He was healing quite quickly, given what he'd been through. There was  
no longer any visible redness at his temple, and the bruises on his  
arms and legs had completely faded. She would have worried about his  
ribs, but apparently they only been sore, not cracked or broken. All  
things considered, their adventure in the Antarctic had been quite  
successful, in that neither of them had ended up in the hospital for  
more than a day or two.

"Dana," her mother said, leaning out of the kitchen. "Could you give  
me a hand?"

When she stepped inside an apron was shoved at her.

"Sidney mentioned how much she liked my pear and cranberry pie when  
she was down at New Year's, and Matty loves coconut custard, so I  
thought I'd make them both for dinner tonight, along with an apple  
pie, almond cookies, and some Ambrosia. I only wish I'd thought of  
all of this last yesterday!"

The pear and cranberry had been prepared, the almond cookies were in  
the oven, and her mother was muttering under her breath as she stirred  
the cream, coconut, and egg concoction in the double boiler. Scully  
was mixing spices and a bit of salt into the apples when an arm  
reached over her shoulder and snagged a thick slice. "Hey!"

Mulder gave her the 'who, me?' look even as he stuffed the apple slice  
into his mouth. She firmly warned him with a look and the upheld  
spoon. He folded his arms and leaned against the counter, all lazy  
masculinity and summer tan in shorts and a gray FBI tee-shirt. "How  
come you never cook for me like this?"

"You're lucky you don't get cadavers' stomach contents," she shot back.

"Dana!"

"Sorry, Mom," she said, scowling at Mulder. He stuck his tongue out  
at her. Oh puh-leeze.

"Here," she handed him the rolling pin and pointed him towards the  
refrigerator. "Make yourself useful and roll out some dough. There's  
a square of it in plastic-wrap on the top shelf."

"But cooking is women's work, Scully."

She held up the spoon again. "You are just cruising for a bruising  
tonight, aren't you?"

"Promises, promises," he grumbled, pushing off of the counter.

Scully spooned the apples into the shell, then drizzled dark, Grade C  
maple syrup over them. She eyed the pie, poured more syrup in and  
dotted plenty of butter over the top. Mulder had done his job and  
rolled out the crust with a surprising degree of grace. He hadn't  
even asked her how thick or how large it was supposed to be. She  
topped the pie and poked a couple of holes in, then scalloped the edge  
with her thumb.

"Who's LVB?"

"Mm? LVB?" she murmured, cutting the excess dough from the crust.

"I glanced through one of those books you left outside. Lots of  
initials in there, Scully."

Thank god her flaming cheeks could be passed off on the heat of the  
open oven. She sighed and closed the oven door. "Those are diaries,  
Mulder."

"I am a trained investigator, Scully, I did figure out that much."

"They were from my far-away youth, back when I was clueless about how  
the world worked," she said, regretting the words immediately.  
Sometimes Mulder read too much into what she said. "It's rather scary,  
actually. Makes me feel both incredibly old."

"I know what you mean," he replied. "Every now and then I get  
nostalgic and dip into the journal I kept my first year at Oxford. You  
think I'm self-absorbed now..." he shook his head with a wry smile.

She quirked a smile back at him. "You're hardly that bad, Mulder."

"Really?" he asked, shy pleasure clear in his voice.

"You have your moments, as do we all."

He shrugged. "You don't."

"Don't be ridiculous. Maybe you just don't notice."

"Oh, I notice, Scully. I always notice."

It was too hard to meet his eyes after that, and she ducked her head  
in embarrassment.

"I want to - " Mulder started, abruptly stopping when Sidney and Tara  
entered the kitchen.

"Oh my god, do I smell apple pie?" asked Tara. She rubbed her  
stomach. "I love Maggie's pies. She's got a gift, I'm telling you."

"I agree completely," said Sidney. She flipped her platinum blonde  
hair over her shoulder and sidled over to the counter, picking up a  
jar of Nutella that Scully didn't remember seeing before. "Would it be  
okay if I had a little of this?"

"Go ahead," Mulder answered. At Scully's raised eyebrow, he continued  
on with a funny little head-bob. "Skinner gave it to me. I think he  
was saving it for himself, he looked really guilty when I caught him  
with it at his secretary's desk. It's not exactly the most manly of  
foods."

"This from the man who eats blueberry Pop-Tarts and Count Chocula,"  
Scully commented, passing Sidney a teaspoon from the cutlery drawer.

"You don't discuss my Count Chocula and I won't mention the bag of  
Tater Tots I found in your freezer. Or the marshmallow Fluff. Or the - "

"Okay, Fox, I think we get it," Tara said, obviously trying hard not  
to smile.

Mulder grinned and guided Scully out of the kitchen with a hand on her  
back. "Wanna play one on one?"

"I thought you'd never ask."

 

_Or maybe it ended like this -_

 

Despite the lights from the city, a confetti of silver was clearly  
visible in the dusky sky. Scully wished she had a dress the same  
color, from azure to cobalt. Mulder was perched on the wooden garden  
seat next to her, dribbling the basketball between his legs.

Across the expanse of lawn, warm yellow lights flicked on in the  
bathroom, the study, and in the living room, defeating the cold glow  
of the television. Amidst the faint tones of a canned laugh track  
came the high crack of a broken dish and a startled "Oh!".

"Today wasn't too bad, Scully," Mulder said, spinning the ball on one  
finger. "Thanks for inviting me."

"You're welcome," she replied. "It was good to have you here."

"My parents used to throw parties every fall, after Labor Day but  
before Thanksgiving, when all the summer people had gone back to the  
mainland. A whole bunch of kids would come over and we were pretty  
much left to our own devices so long as we didn't get underfoot."

"Did they make you eat at the kids' table?"

Mulder grinned. "Oh yeah. There was no chance of us knocking over  
Mom's best crystal or staining the tablecloth with Kool-Aid."

Scully grimaced. "Kool-Aid, who the hell ever thought that up? Drink  
this, make your kids go insane!"

He nudged her shoulder. "Maybe we should have a party, invite all the  
freaks to J.Edgar."

"But, Mulder, they'd all show up," she affably explained. "Of course,  
it might be worth it, just for the reputation factor alone."

"Ah, that's what I like about you, Scully, you're always thinking ahead."

She nodded once, sharply. "I aim to please."

The scent of late summer green arose all about them, and she breathed  
in so deeply she thought she might get drunk off of the sweetness of  
it. God's grace they would both make it through another year, to  
savor this season again.

Her mother was abruptly silhouetted in the kitchen doorway. "Fox,  
Dana, dinner's almost on the table."

Scully raised a hand in acknowledgment and stood up, then knocked the  
basketball off of Mulder's finger.

"Hey!"

She stepped between his knees and cupped his face between her hands,  
watching his expression turn from tight-lipped annoyance to wide-eyed  
astonishment after she kissed him, and not on the forehead, either.  
She smiled and stepped away. "Come on, let's go eat."

 

_Maybe that's what happened, maybe not. Erato's not saying. As for  
me, Kalliope, well. I will always be here, to tell the tales of  
Heroes past, present, and future._

Although, these days, it has to be said they're in short supply.  
However, the Moirai says these things come and go, and that your kind  
shall never be without them.

And they would know, wouldn't they?

~*~

**Author's Note:**

> I finally succumbed to what the Muses wanted and wrote  
> fluff. Always good with peanut butter, y'know?
> 
> In later classical times, the following were assigned to the Muses.  
> Previous to this, they had simply been the generic 'Goddesses of  
> Music, Poetry, and Song':
> 
> Erato: Muse of erotic poetry  
> Kleio: Muse of historical writings  
> Euterpe: Muse of lyric poetry  
> Thaleia: Muse of comedic and idyllic poetry  
> Melpomene: Muse of tragedy  
> Terpsikhore: Muse of choral song and dance  
> Polyhymnia: Muse of sublime hymns  
> Ourania: Muse of astronomy  
> Kalliope: Muse of eloquence and epic poetry
> 
> The Moirai: the three Fates, Clotho, Lachesis, and Atropos. Spinner,  
> Weaver, and Cutter.
> 
> Info from the fabulous http://www.theoi.com
> 
> http://www.coudray-parfumeur.com/index2.htm - Very expensive, but ye  
> gods is it worth it. The Jacinthe et Rose is also gorgeous. :D
> 
> Emuse challenge ingredients were:
> 
> 1\. Mulder reading Scully's teenage diary - IndigoMuse  
> 2\. Scully finding Mulder taking a bath in her tub - Tessa  
> 3\. Mulder borrowing Nutella from Skinner - Daniella  
> 4\. Mulder watching daytime soaps - Shayna  
> 5\. Drumsticks must be somehow involved - Caffeine Psychosis


End file.
